


Copywritten Skin

by worldturtling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 3rd party pov, Awkward Sam, Benny POV, Clothes Sharing, Cooking, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Sam POV, Sam vs Benny, Southern Gentleman!Benny, protective!benny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldturtling/pseuds/worldturtling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny doesn’t think certain things about Dean should be anyone else’s business. Written for the prompt: southern gentleman for Dean/Benny week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copywritten Skin

Sam is woken in the middle of the night by a nightmare he can’t remember and a screaming head. He bends over himself to get out of bed with hazy awareness, only knowing he needs to get to the painkillers Dean keeps high in the kitchen cabinet. He shuffles slowly through the hall of the underground bunker to get to the kitchens. Reluctant to turn on any lights, he finds the box of pills with his hands after some trial and error.

He downs five, with tap water, and exhales with soon promised relief. Awareness seeps back into him when he makes his way back to the hall, and his senses pick up the light cracking under Dean’s door. Sam swallows when he hears the murmur of low voices beyond it, and he tenses when he remembers Dean’s vampire buddy had made it back from purgatory again and decided to stay with them.

Sam hadn’t been totally aware that they’d be staying  _together_  until right now.

Almost guiltily, and he’ll blame the nightmares disorienting him later, he stops a foot away from Dean’s door. Benny’s voice is smoky and rough and is grumbling something in a serious tone. Sam edges closer to the door.

“Dean, I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice is laced with irritation Sam had never registered from him, at least not when directed at his brother.

Dean mumbles something Sam can’t make out, but the tone is his belligerent stubborn tone Sam had argued and lost against countless times.

“Hey, hey now,” Benny’s voice lost all of its annoyed edge and went soft and placating, almost pleading, “darlin’, let me take care of you.”

Sam waits to see if Dean will respond, but the next sound that comes out from his brother after a long moment is something so soft and vulnerable and intimate of a noise that Sam blushes. Alarmed by the thoughts that are occurring to him, he scatters away from the door and stalks to his room, almost welcoming whatever hellish nightmares he had woken from again.

Still, when full consciousness returns to him, there’s something of a brother left in Sam. He walks into the kitchen and sees Benny, just Benny, frying up some eggs and bacon in a pan. He’s wearing Dean’s green apron. Benny doesn’t acknowledge him past a nod and Sam goes for the automated coffee maker full of fresh brewed roast first.

He strolls around the kitchen island, leaning over the marble counter overseeing Benny’s breakfast making.

“So,” he starts conversationally, taking a sip of his fresh coffee, “you having fun with Dean?”

Benny’s spatula stills where it’s moving in the skillet, and Sam sees his shoulders tense. Benny stares at the eggs and bacon sizzling below him for a long minute, enough to make Sam start to second guess what he just said, and dully feeling sick all of a sudden. He’s paralyzed in place trapped waiting for Benny to answer.

Brief relief flows through him when Benny’s head slowly looks up at him. His eyes, normally congenially warm or polite, are cold, and his face is absent of any humor.

“You better think long and hard ‘bout what you’re asking me son.” He says quietly, tilting his head down just slightly.  His tone is so severe, Sam feels almost stupidly scolded. He takes his coffee cup and flees. He doesn’t ask again.

-

Sometimes Dean follows Benny to Benny’s boat. Usually in his own car because he doesn’t trust Benny’s apparently, although Dean also has a very personal attachment to the muscle car.

When he does follow Benny, it’s usually for a week or two max. Benny will cook him meals and Dean will warm his bed with talk of captains and brigs that has Benny grinning into his mouth and rucking his shirts up to limit his arms in a way that makes Dean’s pulse quicken and neck flush. Dean is beautiful and golden, hot and sweating and alive under him, naked body and naked eyes giving to Benny completely with each sound of slapping skin and hitched breathy moans.

Dean is just as beautiful the morning after, asleep and bare in Benny’s bed. The grey morning filters through his dirty windows, blanketing Dean in pale and soft white light. His freckles stick out, his long lashes resting undisturbed over his cheeks. The lines of his back and the way his spine dips to the curve of his behind, tucked carefully under the white cotton sheet and hidden from his sight, is the most beautiful sight Benny thinks he has ever seen. In moments like this, just before Dean is waking, he dare not move, or even pretend to breathe. He is as still as he is dead, to preserve the perfect peace relaxed next to him in such a vulnerable way Benny never imagined he’d ever get to witness.

And then sometimes, there are knocks on the barred steel door to ruin that. Dean freezes up, eyes shocked awake. He fists the sheets at his waist and Benny is quick to control the damage while Dean blinks wide eyes like a startled cat.

“I got it darlin’” he kisses Dean’ forehead after he pulls a shirt over his head. Dean relaxes at the touch, sinking back into the pillow and smiling softly. A series of observations had lead to Benny understanding that Dean did not like to be naked or seen with anything less than a shirt by anyone. Benny himself felt protective of his current state of undress.

He drags his pants up and quickly buttons as he walks towards the door. He looks through the peep hole and sees a little skinny guy, knobby and short, with hair flopped around under a baseball cap. Benny furrows his brows and unbars the door, swinging it open.

The guy jumps as the door swings and Benny’s broad frame fits solidly in the doorway.

“Can I help you?” Benny puts on his best charming smile, arms crossed over his chest.

“My name’s Garth, I, uh, I got this address from Dean?” the kid digs out a grimy piece of paper from his jean pocket

Benny’s frowns and he takes the offered paper.

“Dean’s inside, can I take a message?”

Garth tries peaking over his shoulder, but deflates at a look from Benny.

“You must be Benny. He told me to get these.”  He hands over the large brown bag, and Benny peaks inside. Bananas, power drinks, and blood bags.

“Alright have fun you two,” Garth is already walking away when Benny looks back up.

Benny closes the door and places the bag to the side, stealing one of the blood bags out. As he walks back to the bed he notices Dean’s migrated and curled over his spot.  Benny finishes the blood bag off, and tosses it into the bin. He climbs back into bed and curls himself around Dean, Dean’s hand finding his and guiding it around his stomach.

“Thanks for doing my grocery shopping for me, darlin’.”

Dean preens. 

**Author's Note:**

> Garth does Dean's dry cleaning on fridays.


End file.
